Air supply…

I let the fire die down,

then removed the still-hot shoulder blade…

I studied the lines for a long time,

talking as I did so that you might begin to understand the thinking…

This animal had lived all its life in this country,

and just like us it carried an internal map of its life,

where it liked to eat,

to rest,

to mate…

And where this moose had been,

others would surely congregate…

The job of the diviner was to coax this information from the animal…

— in Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden

I’ve been asked before,

more than once,

especially when I mention that I still have two placentas,

waiting in my deep freeze,

and that I have a thing for handmade brooms,

if I am a witch…

Answering that question with an affirmative,

even in this day and age,

can be life threatening,

because most people do not like to take responsibility,

for their own actions,

or circumstances…

When I am asked that question,

I tell the asker to take a good look at me…

I say,

Do I look like a witch to you???

One day I was throwing pots,

and one of the owners of the studio said something about someone being as cold as a witch’s tit,

after she referred to another member as that little brown boy…

I suggested she mind her P’s and Q’s,

as I chose to be in that space and time,

for my creativity to find expression,

and respite,

from limited thought patterns…

She asked me,

in not so many words,

what my problem was,

and if I was a witch…

I showed her the hockey stick across my chest,

and asked,

Do these look cold to you???

I don’t know anything about witchcraft,

or Wiccanism,

I just pay good attention to what is going on around me,

and through me…

The world is my classroom,

and although I have had what could be considered learning disabilities,

I am a serious student,

of Life’s school…

Starshine started baby-sitting last week…

Leaving my baby to look after a baby for five hours on her own,

when I’ve never left her alone for more than three,

brought up some triggers for me…

I had to sit with them to figure out what they were,

because they were clouded with past family themes,

and tones of dismissal of my knowing what is best for my children…

I notice now that when my knowledge gets challenged,

rather than turning it into a fight for who is right,

or wrong,

I take a step back,

breathing into,

what wants to be heard…

Histories repeating themselves,

for a new beginning,

and higher level of consciousness…

We are conditioned by our courts and our classrooms,

to have the one right answer,

and pound it down the throats of others,

come hell or high water,

even if it doesn’t feel good to do so…

It starts on the first day of Kindergarten,

and carries on until the day we die,

unless we learn to let go,

and open up to other possibilities…

I remember being terribly incensed that something was happening in my life,

which on the surface of things,

appeared not to have been my choice…

Someone asked me,

If the path to paradise was on its way to you,

would you turn your back on it,

just because YOU didn’t CHOOSE IT???

That shut me up quick,

and got me on the road to listening,

in a different kind of way…

You stared at the bone for a long time,

“But the creek I’m thinking of runs from another creek that looks just like this one.”

You pointed to another crack that ran into the one split in three…

I smiled…

“Do you get a good feeling from it???” I asked…

You looked at me quizzically…

“When you picture walking up this creek,

do you get the feeling you will find moose here,

or do you feel nothing???”

You thought about this,

your eyes closed,

then finally answered,

“I get a good feeling.”

“You will leave tomorrow before first light,” I said…

 

Thank you Joseph Boyden,

for in your Three Day Road I have found words,

and names,

and ways of being,

which crawl through the bricks,

sticks,

and straw of the Great War,

and the characters who canoe,

through black spruce…

Names,

and words,

and ways of being,

who are resting,

in the creases,

of our unfolding map…